Free A Shade of Dragon 2 by Bella Forrest Page A

onto an elbow. I was jealous of how supple her own muscles appeared to be, in spite of the cold. Although her body temperature was much lower, the cold also damaged her much less—or so it would seem. “Because the last time I checked, you were still the most wanted prince in this village.” Her eyes trailed over me. “I already know you’re the most wanted prince in this bed.”
    Dammit. We were clearly going to need to discuss that kiss at length before things could return to normal… not that any of this had been normal. Did she not consider the possibility of context playing a role? Circumstance? That perhaps last night’s kiss hadn’t been about her as much as it had been about me?
    Not considering herself the central axis in all human motivations was not one of the lady’s strong points.
    When one became invested in the heart of a dense girl, perhaps they deserved the repetitive conversations about “us.”
    “Look… Michelle…” I took a deep breath and forged ahead. The way she was stroking my chest made it quite clear that this was not avoidable. “About last night.”
    At the mere phrase, the woman recoiled.
    “I knew it!” she wailed, leaping off of the bed. At least that would give me the space to slowly work my muscles back into order. It required several minutes of gentle, then deeper, massage, followed by an intense set of stretches. “So many rebound red flags, but do I ever listen, nooo,” Michelle berated herself, scrambling out from beneath the bearskin mantle we had shared. She was still wearing no shirt—it was after she had peeled it off that I’d recoiled, and informed her that the men of fire culture did not move with the speed so oft associated with the element.
    “It has naught to do with you,” I reassured her. At least, I thought I was reassuring her.
    “Yes, we have that one, too,” she snapped at me, scrambling into her shirt. “It’s called ‘it’s not me, it’s you’!”
    “Michelle, please,” I pleaded, wincing as I forced myself into the upright position. “Don’t take this so personally. This is a very difficult time—”
    “And you really need to find yourself?” she shrilled, whirling and storming from the room. The woman had no stealth in her nature whatsoever. It was as if she had forgotten entirely that we were in hostile territory.
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    I t was after I sat up and performed my morning stretches that I advanced onto the sales floor again and found that the windows showed a still porcelain blanket laid over everything. The snow, mercifully, had abated.
    And the shop was empty.
    “Gods damn it!” I cried, scouring the crowded racks of clothing in the hopes that Michelle was there, engrossed in some threadbare shawl that she could call “adorable.” But she wasn’t there. I didn’t see her anywhere. Gods…
    I had infuriated the unreasonable woman and sent her storming off into unfriendly territory. Who knew what might become of her? She was, after all, so hot-headed and proud. It would be easy for someone like that to find trouble and dive into it.
    My sweating palm raked through my hair. Michelle was gone; I would need to accept that. Now I was alone. It was only me… and my satchel with a few belongings. Some pelts of fur, jars of preserved meals, and a few light blades. The magical mirror and the fantastical treasures of the Oracle, gifts in exchange for my brief trial companionship with Michelle. The love letter: enchanted papyrus which sent messages only to loved ones. The skeleton key, willful and psychic. It would only unlock the doors which destiny had not sealed. And finally, the poisonous bottle. It did not have poison in it. It had nothing in it. But any liquid with which it was filled would become some gradient of death.
    I would need to at least look for Michelle. I could not merely assume the worst. I would need to scan the perimeter, no matter how dangerous it was, because it was my fault that she was here at all. I had delved